


The Caffrey-Ellis Kitchen Heist

by citrinesunset



Series: Best Laid Plans [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Background Neal Caffrey/Sara Ellis, Domesticity, F/M, Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 15:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11900736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrinesunset/pseuds/citrinesunset
Summary: Neal thinks his kids are being well-behaved while he works. He's wrong.





	The Caffrey-Ellis Kitchen Heist

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for run_the_con in 2013, for the prompt "partners in crime." This is set in the same 'verse as my White Collar big bang fic, "Best Laid Plans." It takes place around five years after that fic. David is nine and his younger sister, Norah, is three.

Neal was painting the _Mona Lisa_ on a small circle of fondant when his phone rang. He considered letting it go to voicemail, but when he saw it was Peter, he picked it up. Cradling the phone against his shoulder, he said, "Hey, what's up?"

"Oh, not much. Haven't talked to you in a bit—thought I'd see how it's going."

"Well, you know, it's summer. So I'm busy with the kids."

"They keeping you on your toes?"

"It's not as bad as it could be. I was worried with the age difference, they wouldn't want to play together. But David loves being a big brother. He's teaching Norah how to build a house with Legos right now."

"Bet that helps you get some time to yourself."

"Yeah, and I can really use it right now. I have to recreate works of art on twenty-four cupcakes tonight, and I still have thirteen to go."

"New medium for you?"

"Sara's got this thing at work, and she promised to bring baked goods. And of course, Sterling Bosch loves priceless art. I guess they're fine with me making forgeries as long as they get to eat them."

Peter chuckled. "Oh, what hypocrites."

They talked for a few more minutes, until Elizabeth came home and Peter had to go, promising to call again in a day or two. Neal hung up, set down his brush, and surveyed his work.

He liked the challenge, but it was a lot of work. With the Van Gogh, Kandinsky, and Pollock cupcakes, he'd tried to use buttercream frosting, but the result was less accurate that he would have liked. With most of the others, particularly the Renaissance masters, fondant as really the only option. At least the kids were less enthralled with the fondant—he'd let them eat a couple bites of it earlier, but neither of them had liked the taste as well as the frosting.

The buttercream ones were another matter. Norah was still too young to understand that she couldn't always have what she wanted, so he was glad David was keeping her occupied.

He'd just picked up his brush to get back to work when a piercing scream came from the living room. He almost dropped his brush as he scrambled to go see what was wrong.

David was kneeling on the floor, still working on the Lego house. Norah was standing in the middle of the room, screaming.

Neal knelt down in front of the three-year-old and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Norah, sweetheart, what's the matter?"

Norah stopped, took a breath, and screamed again. Neal winced.

"What is it?"

Norah pointed at the chair behind Neal. "Mouse!"

A mouse? They'd never had mice in the house. Neal shuffled around on his knees and bent over. He looked under chair and spotted the culprit.

"This?" he asked. He held up a small, plush toy mouse with synthetic gray fur. "It's just a cat toy, Norah. It's not real."

The cat, a one-eyed, battle-worn former stray, was lying on the chair. Neal gave him the toy and he wrapped his paws around it and purred.

"I know," Norah said, suddenly calm. All traces of panic were gone.

Neal frowned. Annoyance creeping into his voice, he said, "If you knew it was just a toy, why did you scream?"

"'Cause David told me to."

"David, did you—" He looked over his shoulder, but David was gone.

Neal had a bad feeling about this.

He got up, wincing as he did so (he refused to consider that he was getting older, but his knees sure weren't what they used to be), and hurried back to the kitchen. He was just in time to see David grabbing two buttercream Pollock cupcakes.

"David," he said, trying to sound stern, "what are you doing?"

David froze. "Nothing."

"It looks like you're stealing some cupcakes. And you got your sister to cause a distraction."

David's shoulders slumped. "She told you, didn't she? I knew I couldn't trust her...."

"You shouldn't teach your sister to lie. Especially not to pull off an...art heist."

The kids weren't exactly art thieves, but this was a bit close for comfort. He couldn't tell Sara about this.

"I'm sorry. We just wanted a couple. Mom doesn't need _all_ the cupcakes."

Norah came into the kitchen and stood beside David. She stuck out her lower lip and said, "Please. I want it."

Neal crossed his arms. "No. I told you, these are for your mom's work party."

"But Dad," David said, "these aren't even your best work. I mean, this one kind of looks like _Number 18_ , but not really. It's kind of a mess."

If not an art thief, Neal had definitely raised a critic. At least he could give Sara some of the blame for that.

"David...."

"It's true!"

And it was. Why did he think he could recreate Pollock's work with food coloring and buttercream frosting? Maybe on a large cake, but on a cupcake? He could always bake more cupcakes and try again with fondant. The part of him that couldn't resist a challenge wanted to do it. But instead, he thought he'd stay away from abstract expressionism for a while, and hope Sara was okay with twenty-two cupcakes.

With a sigh, he said, "All right. I guess we can say these are failed experiments. You can have them. But just these two, okay?"

David and Norah grinned and nodded.

Neal helped the kids get settled at the kitchen table to eat the cupcakes. He returned to his stool at the counter and returned to work.

"Hey, Dad?" David said after a minute.

"Yes?"

"Your Kandinsky ones aren't very good either. Can we say those are failed experiments, too?"


End file.
